Handcuffed
by Lumoa
Summary: John really needed to stop helping Sherlock with his experiments. Especially if said experiment involved him and Sherlock being handcuffed together with no key to unlock them. Sherlock/John
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This came from the lovely pictures of our two beloved Baker Street boys in handcuffs together for the new season~ **

**Anything in **_ITALICS _**will be part of John's thoughts.**

**~SHERLOCK~**

John woke up feeling a bit odd. His bed felt slightly warmer than usual and his soldier's instincts were kicking in and telling him that somebody was in the room staring at him. John shifted around carefully, and turned on his side to see exactly who was intruding in his room.

Sherlock.

John groaned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Sherlock was indeed staring at John. In fact, he was sitting right next to John on his bed, still wearing the same exact clothes he had been wearing last night. _Somebody didn't go to sleep last night._

"John."

Pretending to ignore the man, John turned back over on his side and checked the clock on his bedside table. It read five o'clock, exactly on the dot. John shifted again to stare at Sherlock.

"Should I be glad that you at least gave me until early morning to sleep?" He asked sarcastically. Sherlock rolled his eyes lowered his head so that they were looking at each other in the eyes.

"John, I need help with an experiment." Sherlock said.

"Of course you do." John responded. Figuring it was pointless to dissuade the man (a lesson learned from many trials and errors) John sat up and rolled himself out of bed. Or at least, he TRIED to. John felt Sherlock suddenly tugging on his arm, and he fell back down onto the bed.

"Sherlock, what the hell are you-"

CLICK!

Click…

Click?

John looked down at his wrist and saw in an almost numb horror that Sherlock had handcuffed one of his wrists. Following the metal trail, his eyes fell upon the other part of the handcuffs…which were on Sherlock's wrist.

"Sherlock," John began calmly, "what is this?"

"An experiment." Sherlock frowned and began fiddling with the keyhole, poking what looking like to be a bobby pin in and out of it.

"What experiment demands us to be handcuffed together exactly?" John continued on, still making his voice remain calm and steady.

"This experiment, obviously John."

"AND WHAT THE HELL MADE YOU THINK I WOULD WANT TO TAKE PART IN IT?" John bellowed, pulling hard on his handcuffed wrist. This succeeded in allowing John to jump off the bed, but made Sherlock fall face down onto it as his wrist followed John's.

"I don't see why you're so angry." Sherlock grumbled. John took a moment to pull a few deep breaths into his lungs. Sherlock had done many, many stupid experiments in their flat ever since the day John had moved in. And John had gracefully dealt with them all, and had even managed to get Sherlock to tone them down a bit after finding not one- but three rotted heads in the fridge one evening. However this-this was just going too far.

John attempted to put his hands over his face in exasperation, but the hand that was attached to the wrist that was currently attached to Sherlock wouldn't move any further than a couple of inches.

"Sherlock, give me the key to these right now so we can release ourselves."

"I don't have it." Dear Lord, John could almost feel one of his eyes begin to twitch with slight hysteria.

"What do you mean you don't have it?" John hissed, pulling their handcuffed wrists up in front of Sherlock's face. "You had better mean that you don't have the key on you now, and its right downstairs."

"Well actually there is no key. I purposefully designed these handcuffs to have no key." Sherlock batted John's hand out of his face and resumed picking at the key lock. John stood there, glaring at Sherlock with all the fury he could muster at five in the morning.

"Explain." He hissed, putting their faces back within close range, making sure Sherlock could see how furious he was.

Sherlock paused in his tinkering for a moment, looking at John's angry expression with one of boredom. "Oh don't be so upset John. I'll have us out in a few moments time…I think."

"EXPLAIN SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock looked almost sulky at John's outburst. He put the bobby pin down and propped his head up on his uncuffed hand. "Well since you've been sleeping through the night for the past week or so-"

"Like any normal person should."

"I've been bored. And you should know my take on normal by now John. Normal is boring, which is exactly why I called in a favor from an engineer who owed me a favor and asked him to design a pair of handcuffs without a key that had an incredibly difficult lock to pick. I just got them last evening and of course I had to test them, so I handcuffed my hand I use less for lock-picking and began to attempt to free myself. Unfortunately this engineer is actually quite clever at their job and it seems I cannot pick the lock quite yet." Sherlock finished his tale by giving the handcuffs a tap and smiling innocently up at John.

"Sherlock, exactly why did you think it would be a good idea to handcuff us together if you couldn't pick the lock?" John actually really didn't want to hear the reason. But with Sherlock, you always just have to ask him 'Why?'

"Oh that. Well because I would look foolish with just one hand cuffed, but I very well couldn't handcuff both my hands; I need one to pick the lock. So I thought it would be an interesting experiment to see how you reacted to being handcuffed to me." It was easy to see that Sherlock had lost interest in the conversation. He had picked the bobby pin back up and was beginning to poke at the keyhole again.

**~SHERLOCK~**

John had no idea what to do. Sherlock was obviously having trouble getting the lock to open, and what was worse was Sherlock muttering silently to himself, 'Brilliant! This will be entertaining!' which in Sherlock speak meant, 'This will keep me from being bored for at least over twenty-four hours!'

Translated to John speak, 'Bloody hell, I'm going to be attached to Sherlock for awhile. Somebody get me a saw to cut off my wrist now.'

So far, it was an absolute nightmare. John had wanted Sherlock to stay outside while he went to the bathroom, but unfortunately the metal links on the handcuffs wouldn't allow them to be that far away from each other, so John had to be content with blindfolding Sherlock and telling him to close his ears and hum a tune so that the other couldn't hear anything.

Sherlock had, of course, replied with sarcasm. But eventually he had done as John asked, even if it was only because John had threatened to throw out the latest poison ivy experiment downstairs.

Showering…well it had been a bit better. At least Sherlock could stand outside the shower curtain as John showered. But it was still incredibly uncomfortable.

Putting on clothes and taking them off for the shower was an interesting experience. John had to pretty much cut off his pajama top, however Sherlock surprised him by actually phoning Mycroft and asking for some clothing to deal with their 'special situation'. Didn't mean it hadn't been embarrassing as hell for John. He could almost hear Mycroft's amused voice as he took in the handcuff story. He was pretty sure that people were maybe going to get the wrong idea as to why him and Sherlock were handcuffed together.

Actually make that 'maybe' into 'most definitely'.

Sherlock wasn't making things any easier either. When John had wanted privacy for trying on the new clothes Mycroft's men had brought (before the shower, because John wasn't too fond of walking around the flat half naked, especially since it was the middle of winter and their heater was broken) Sherlock had scoffed and said "Really John. It's not like I haven't seen it all before."

People were really, really, really going to get the wrong impression about them.

But still, after two hours of the agony of getting ready for the day with Sherlock, they both still stood in the living room, fully clothed and bathed- ready for the day- and still handcuffed together.

_This might not be so bad if we can just remain in the flat all day, _John thought. Just as long as Lestrade didn't call with a new case, everything would be fine.

But of course everything wouldn't be fine.

Because Sherlock's phone suddenly lit up with a text message, and instantly Sherlock's face was transformed into a huge grin.

"Come John! A murder has taken place! Let's go!"

Mycroft had even been so kind as to give them new jackets and jumpers to keep them warm outside.

This was going to be an incredibly long day. John winced as the handcuffs pulled on his skin as Sherlock pulled him along outside, already hailing a cab to deliver them to the crime scene.


	2. Chapter 2

**At first I was like- 'I will make an amazing fanfic filled with correct grammar, British-isms, and awesome dialogue.' And then after staring at the blank document for five minutes I went- 'Screw it. I'm just going to mess with them.'**

**And so I finally wrote this chapter. I apologize.**

**~SHERLOCK~**

Going to a crime scene handcuffed to Sherlock Holmes had to be at least the second most mortifying experience John had ever experienced.

"Err, John, I believe you have a Sherlock attached to you…" Lestrade couldn't keep the grin from spreading over his face. It was all he could do to prevent himself from bursting out laughing.

Scratch that, it was definitely the most mortifying experience John had ever experienced.

"Yea, thanks for that Greg. I hadn't noticed." John scowled and once again tugged at the handcuffs binding him and Sherlock together. Sherlock gave John a pouting look, but backed off when John shot his 'Army Commander Look' at him.

"It really isn't my place to ask about what you two do in your spare time, but at least take off the handcuffs before coming to a crime scene." Lestrade tried to place annoyance in his tone, but failed miserably.

"We weren't doing ANYTHING. Or at least I bloody wasn't! This idiot," John jerked on the handcuffs again, this time making Sherlock stumble forward, "decided it would be a brilliant idea to handcuff us together with an un-pickable lock with no key!"

At this Sherlock pulled another sulking face, "Really John, it isn't un-pickable. I just haven't been able to decipher the lock yet."

"Like that's any better!"

"It is! It means I can pick it! Just not now…"

"I don't want to be stuck to you forever!"

"John stop being so melodramatic. We won't be stuck together forever…maybe just a few days."

"A few days!" John spluttered.

"Oi, you two. Quite bickering and remember you are at a crime scene." Lestrade butted in, giving both of them a glare. "Now if you don't mind, Sherlock, could you please take a look at the body? Anderson's on duty so yes," Lestrade added to Sherlock's snide look, "John can take a look at the body and offer his medical opinion."

Placated, Sherlock quickly moved towards the crime scene, dragging John behind him like a dog on a leash.

"Sherlock slow down!" John hissed, "Your legs are too damn long. I have enough trouble keeping up with you regularly but now that we're attached you need to slow down so I can at least not trip onto my face every five seconds!"

"Not now John, the crime scene calls to me." Sherlock smirked at John's furious face and continued pulling him along behind him until they reached the crime scene. Sherlock's face was lit up with interest until he took a good look around the room, and his face suddenly fell back into one of boredom.

"Really Lestrade? I don't even need to step into the room to tell you that the man was murdered by his brother. The clues are everywhere. Did you even bother waking up this morning or did you just sleepwalk into the crime scene?" Sherlock ignored the look of frustration that played over Lestrade's face, choosing instead to immediately start playing with the lock on the handcuffs again.

"Damn it Sherlock, this isn't the place!" John smacked Sherlock's hand off the handcuffs.

"I agree, both of you stop flirting at crime scene. It's inappropriate." Lestrade didn't even bother glancing in their direction as he moved about the crime scene once again, trying to discover what Sherlock had so obviously seen.

"We don't flirt at crime scenes. We may giggle but we certainly don't flirt." Sherlock said in a monotone voice, trying to fiddle with the handcuffs before backing down quickly as John raised his hand to smack Sherlock's again.

"We don't giggle. We laugh. And we only did that once." John said. Lestrade grunted in reply, still searching for the evidence. Sherlock slyly slid his hand down to touch the handcuffs one last time, only to have them smacked away a second time by John's hand.

"John if you want me to get these off I do have to touch them. I don't have psychic powers to magically undo the lock." Sherlock scowled. John sent an equally exasperated look at him, but grudgingly allowed Sherlock access to the handcuffs once more…only to regret it a second later when Sherlock semi-gracefully plunked himself on the floor and gave his full attention to the handcuffs. This was obviously the perfect time for Sally to make her entrance. One look around the room gave her a view of Sherlock on the crime scene floor fiddling with handcuffs, John also attached to said handcuffs being tugged down to Sherlock's level, and Lestrade mumbling to himself, looking in weird places for only god knows what.

"Should I even ask?" Sally asked.

All three men looked up at the same time, and in different tones said all together, "No."

"Didn't think so. You, freak, take your boy toy out of the crime scene if you aren't helping." Sally commanded. John's protests at being Sherlock's 'boy toy' were unheard by all parties as Sherlock stood up and fixed Sally with his 'I-know-something-embarrassing-about-you-and-I'm-about-to-reveal-it-to-everyone-if-you-don't-shut-up-now' look.

"Sherlock." Lestrade's voice warned from behind the couch. The man had since long ago acquired a 'Sherlock is feeling snarky' detector, and unless he wanted World War III happening in his crime scene area, Lestrade had to stop Sally and Sherlock from going at it…again.

"We were just leaving." John was finally given the chance to drag Sherlock by way of handcuffs, leading him out of the crime scene. Sadly, he wasn't quick enough to stop Sherlock from muttering something in Sally's ear, leaving the poor woman red faced and angrily spluttering incoherent words.

Both men stepped out back onto the street, and right away they strode off into two different directions. Sherlock and John didn't even realize what was happening before the handcuffs made a cracking noise, and both men were suddenly pulled back to each other, their back hitting one another before they collapsed on the ground.

"This isn't happening." John groaned, slapping a hand to his face. Sherlock snorted and glanced backward at him.

"A bit late for denial, isn't it John?"

"Shut up Sherlock. This is your fault."

"I think you've made it pretty clear that you think this is my fault already John."

"Well it is."

"I left my good lock picking tools back at Baker Street, and I forgot to bring enough money to grab another cab back home. Also I think the head inside the fridge is rotting, which disproves one of my theories about an old case."

"What?" John's bafflement was clear in his voice.

"I thought it best to get all the bad news out now while you're still mad at me now." Sherlock shrugged at John's horrified expression.

"Sherlock, I am not walking home or taking the underground with you handcuffed to me!" John forced them back up.

"Well do you have money for a cab?" Sherlock asked. John began shoving his free hand in his pockets, only turning up a sad, small amount of cash. Sherlock pooled their money together, but shook his head, signaling that even together their money wasn't enough to hire a cab to drive them all the way back to Baker Street.

"So are we walking or taking the underground?"

"Damn it Sherlock!"

**~SHERLOCK~**

Despite John's protests, they did indeed end up taking the underground back to Baker Street. John protested a bit, hoping they wouldn't run into many people walking, but was eventually won over by the fact that if they took the underground, they would get home faster meaning less time would be spent handcuffed to Sherlock.

Although all the looks from the other people on the underground were enough to make John regret his decision. Sherlock, of course, didn't mind at all. He was amusing himself by taking in the looks people gave them, and whispering about them to John.

"Look at that man staring at us, the one with the green umbrella. He is obviously gay and thinking about using handcuffs on his partner. The man next to him is looking slightly nervous, and by his looks he must be a rookie cop. Probably debating about whether we are escaped convicts or just strange people. The woman towards the front keeps giving us disgusted looks, but notice her ring finger is empty but there is still a ring mark. That means she wore her wedding ring for a long time without taking it off, but recently there's been a reason she had to. Her husband probably had an affair with a man and looking at us she remembers him. Hence the angry and disgusted looks she keeps sending us."

"Do we really give off a vibe that we're gay Sherlock?" John was almost tired of asking this question.

"I don't know. I've always been in the opinion everyone is either bisexual or asexual. Nobody is truly straight or gay." Sherlock answered back, giving John a brief reprieve from his constant chatter about the people around them. Not that it wasn't fun seeing Sherlock being brilliant, but considering how this day had been going for John, he would be relieved with a bit of peace and quiet after this whole handcuff thing was over with.

"Oh, this is our stop John." Sherlock and John got off and walked the rest of the way to Baker Street. As soon as they were back in the safety of their home, John sighed and leaned against the door, grateful for the privacy.

"Tools are upstairs John!" Sherlock tugged impatiently on John's jacket. John mumbled in agreement, and moved upstairs with Sherlock. He ignored Sherlock's mutterings as he pattered around the upstairs, searching for where he had hid the good lock picking kit, until they made their way into John's room.

"Sherlock," John paused, and then said, "What are we doing in my room?"

"Oh I always hide stuff in your room. You have some great hiding places in here." Sherlock said, reaching under the bed, only to let out a grunt of frustration when his hands found nothing.

"You hide stuff in my room?"

"I just said that John."

John was torn between smacking Sherlock or smacking himself. Of course Sherlock hid stuff in his room. Why had he expected anything different?

"I'm a bit surprised at how heavy a sleeper you are sometimes. I come in here at night to grab things and you never wake up." Sherlock continued, absentmindedly. John only stared at the other man, curse words wanting to make themselves out of his mouth, but not feeling quite appropriate for the situation. John continued with this inner struggle of not knowing exactly how to shout at Sherlock (so many different ways to choose from), but Sherlock suddenly made a 'Aha' sound and brought out a small set of lock picks from John's underwear drawer.

"My underwear drawer? Really Sherlock?" Maybe he should strangle him first. Or hit him over the head with something.

"I agree, not the cleverest place to hide them but you were about to wake up when I was putting these away and I panicked." Sherlock said mildly.

"Do you just watch me sleep sometimes?" John wasn't sure where that had come from, but he needed to say something while his brain was trying to process the different ways to hurt Sherlock without really killing him.

"Only if you were having a nightmare. I come in sometimes and you're frantically thrashing about. You seem to like it when I hold your hand or come into bed with you."

John couldn't say anything to that. There was nothing he could say. Only staring at Sherlock dumbly seemed the correct response. Although somewhere in the back of his mind, John's brain was processing that he had been getting better sleep awhile after moving in with Sherlock. John had just assumed it was the exhausting cases that gave him restful sleep, but apparently it wasn't just that.

"You're a snuggler by the way. You like to cuddle. It's hard to remove myself out of your grasp before you wake up in the morning." Sherlock squinted his eyes, poking at the lock on the handcuffs with some sort of oddly bent wire.

John's brain could no longer think of even a small word to shout at Sherlock. He just stared slack jawed at Sherlock, the other oblivious to John's sudden brain damage.

_Click!_

"Well that's one part of the lock down! I believe there are about eight other parts to it though…this might take me awhile. Did you want to lie down on the bed?" Sherlock asked John casually.

John took a look at the bed, and then looked back at Sherlock. He suddenly felt very much more aware of the other man, and lying down in bed with him was not about to help.

**~SHERLOCK~**

**A/N: Also I'd like to apologize for the late updates on all my stories. These past few months haven't exactly been great for me (no big problems, nothing to freak out over, just life kicking my butt and me struggling to get back up) so I haven't had the 'mojo' for writing. **

**Anyways! I am actually content to leave the story here, but if you guys want more you are going to have to tell me. And some hints as to what you would like would be appreciated. I'm not sure where to take the story from here.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Much love to ****Himekun**** for the idea on this chapter! Thank you so much for giving my inspiration the kick it needed to write this! **

**Oh, and I am pretty sure that outsiders aren't allowed to sit in on doctor appointments unless the patient allows it, but we will ignore that little fact for right now. And if the characters seem OOC…well let's just say I feel like writing funny right now. **

**~SHERLOCK~**

A sudden ring from John's cellphone prevented the poor man from the awkward moment of mouth flapping and mindless babbling he was about to go through after Sherlock's less than tactful suggestion.

"Hello?" John quickly turned around, trying to prevent Sherlock from seeing his now slightly flushed face.

"John? It's Sarah. Listen, I know today is your day off, but a lot of people called in sick today and we're short-handed. Do you think you could come in and help out?"

"Er…" John spared a glance back at Sherlock, watching the other man play with the lock for a couple of seconds before turning back to the conversation with Sarah. "I'm not really sure I can. I'm a bit tied up at the moment."

"Oh, that's too bad." Sarah sighed, and John heard the sounds of shuffling papers in the background. "It's been really busy today, what with the flu going round."

"Guilt trip not working Sarah." John heard a small shuffling noise from behind him, and before he could move, Sherlock was suddenly breathing over his shoulder, looking at John curiously.

"What does she want?" John wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but Sherlock sounded a bit sulky.

"She wants me to come into work."

"Isn't it your day off?"

"A lot of people called in sick." John said. He shifted slightly, trying to move Sherlock off his shoulder. Sherlock moved, but only enough so that they were now sitting side by side, knees brushing against each other.

"Well if they're that short-handed, shouldn't you go in and help? Seems like the morally correct thing you would do." Sherlock said offhandedly. John merely rolled his eyes in reply and jerked the handcuffs up, rattling them for emphasis. "John there is no reason I can't come with you to work. I'll be good, I promise."

"No Sherlock. You aren't coming to work with me. It isn't 'bring your incorrigible roommate to work day.'"

"Oh come now John, you need something to do while I'm working on the handcuffs; might as well earn money while you're at it." Sherlock smiled, amused at John's frustration. Moving quickly, he plucked John's phone out of his hand and held it up to his own ear, holding a now frantic John back with the handcuffed hand. "Sarah? Yes, this is Sherlock. Just letting you know that John will be coming in today, although I'm coming with him."

"Why do you need to come with him?" Sarah asked, baffled.

"Ah, well we're handcuffed together and I haven't managed to pick the lock yet so if you want John, you're going to have to take me along with him." Sherlock answered politely. Sarah let out an exhausted sigh on the other end of the line. Sherlock could almost see her rubbing her forehead in frustration.

"Isn't that the way it always is?" Sarah let out an unladylike snort, "Very well. We need John's help desperately, so I'm willing to let you tag along. Can you be here within an hour?"

"I'll make sure we're there soon. Goodbye." Sherlock pressed the end call button and moved his hand away so that nothing was now holding a still scrambling John away from him.

With an 'Oof!' John went sprawling into Sherlock's lap. A slightly less frustrated John would have been completely embarrassed to find himself laying in Sherlock's lap, however at the moment Sherlock suddenly had a lap full of a very pissed off John who was giving his best angry glare in the detective's direction.

"Sherlock! We are not going into work like this!" John scowled.

"We went into my work like this and everything was just fine. I don't see how going into your work is any different." Huffing slightly, Sherlock shoved John out of his lap and stood up, pulling John awkwardly towards the door. All the complaints John shouted at Sherlock were promptly filed under 'Not important' and within five minutes, Sherlock had already called a cab to take them to John's work. By the time the cab arrived, Sherlock was ready to leave and had managed to shove John into a coat.

Getting out the door was a challenge though.

"John, stop acting like a child and let go of the banister." Sherlock tugged on John's arm for the tenth time. John pressed his lips together in a stubborn movement and turned his head away from Sherlock, grabbing onto said banister with an even stronger grip. Sherlock rolled his eyes, hiding a sudden smirk. "John if you don't let go I'll have to resort to desperate measures." Another evil look from John was thrown in his direction.

"Very well." Sherlock sighed, and suddenly both his hands shot forward and began tickling John. John's eyes widened comically before a burst of laughter made its way out of his mouth. His grip on the banister loosened slightly, but Sherlock was relentless in his tickling. John attempted to squirm away, but could only get so far before Sherlock switched from tickling John's sides to tickling John's neck.

"Sherlock, stop!" John managed to get out. An amused smile from Sherlock told him that the detective wasn't likely to stop anytime soon unless John sucked it up and went outside. It was between John's pride and his comfort.

"Alright, alright! You win!" John let go of the banister, gasping for breath as Sherlock lowered his hands.

"Shall we take our leave then?" Sherlock asked with mock politeness. John rolled his eyes and nodded, stomping outside with the detective following smugly in his wake.

**~SHERLOCK~**

A soon as John and Sherlock entered the clinic, everyone started staring at them. Some snotty little kid even pointed at them and asked his mother, loudly, whether or not they were escaped criminals. Decidedly ignoring this, John stomped past everyone to the locker room, preparing to change into his uniform when a sudden thought arose in his mind.

"I can't change into my uniform when we're cuffed together like this Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John again, "Really John, don't look so hopeful," Sherlock looked down at a sudden text message on his phone, "Mycroft's already taken care of it. Says there should be a package in your office with the proper attire dealing with our 'issue'."

"How did Mycroft know that I would need a new uniform so quickly?" John let his own words sink in for a moment before saying, "He's got my cellphone bugged, hasn't he?"

"I'd expect so." Sherlock answered back casually. John groaned and mashed his head against the wall, giving a moment of silence for the death of his privacy.

Of course the uniform Mycroft had sent over fit perfectly, and within minutes John was assigned his first patient of the day. Taking a look over the information given to him on the patient, John prayed that this appointment would go by quickly and without any disruptions from Sherlock.

Unfortunately as soon as the patient walked in the door, John knew that he was screwed. Sherlock's eyes snapped up and down the patient, taking everything in for ten seconds before loudly reeling off information to John.

"This man won't need much. Just some painkillers and for you to bandage his left wrist; apparently he sprained it while masturbating. I didn't even know you could do that."

The patient stood stock still, an increase in red on his face the only sign that he had actually heard what Sherlock had said.

"Sherlock! You can't just go around doing that! We've had this talk before!" John hissed.

"I'm saving you time John. Didn't you want to get this done quickly?" Sherlock queried. John closed his eyes and massaged his forehead.

"I…er…" The poor patient was still standing at the doorway, awkwardness in his every movement, "Maybe I should just go. My wrist doesn't hurt that much." He slammed the door shut and the sounds of footsteps were heard running away from the room. Everything was silent for a few moment before John groaned and slammed his head onto his desk, not even bothering to look up when he pressed a button on the phone to call the front desk.

"Sarah, send me another one please."

"But I just sent you a patient!" Sarah's indignant voice rang over the speakerphone.

"Sherlock scared him off." There was a slight pause.

"Oh…are you sure you want to do this John?" Sarah asked.

"Just send someone else in." John clicked the end call button and swiveled his chair around to look at Sherlock. "Really Sherlock? Must I tell you to behave?"

Sherlock smirked and rolled his eyes, not even bothering to answer the question.

"Yea, that's what I thought." John sighed, trying not to wince as his muscles began tensing up with frustration. "Just keep quiet Sherlock."

Fortunately for John, Sarah sent in a mother and her daughter next. Sherlock did eye them, but chose to ignore the boring family and instead began to poke at the lock on the handcuffs again. John gave a hasty and awkward explanation to the mother as to the reason why her daughter's doctor was handcuffed to another man, and proceeded on with the appointment. To his relief, the girl merely had a bad allergy problem, and by writing a quick prescription he was able to send them off, avoiding the mother's suspicious glares at him and Sherlock. After they had left, John let out a short sigh of relief and told Sarah to send someone else in. John turned away from the door and quickly washed his hands, preparing for the next person. The click of the door opening alerted him, and John turned around to greet them.

"Hello John, Sherlock."

"Mycroft," Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his older brother, "What do you want?"

"I do need to go see a doctor occasionally, Sherlock. Despite what you think of me I am human." Mycroft said.

"You have a private doctor. I repeat Mycroft, why are you here?" Sherlock almost let out an annoyed growl. Mycroft shrugged his shoulder and sat down on the examination table, ignoring Sherlock's protests and looking to John.

"Dr. Watson, I assume your clothes fit you well?" He asked politely.

Slightly confused as to why Mycroft was here, John nodded back and answered just as politely, "Yes, a perfect fit, thank you."

"Excellent."

An awkward silence followed, and John found himself suddenly desperate to leave the room.

"I need to use the restroom, I'll just let you two talk then." John was ready to make his escape when an annoying and familiar tug on his arm pulled him back.

"John, have you forgotten we're handcuffed together?" Sherlock rattled the chain.

"I was trying to." John sat back down next to Sherlock, avoiding the stares now being sent his way. Damn handcuffs. It was almost a nightmare come to life. Now all that needed to happen was for someone to lock all three of them in the room together and all hell would break loose.

**~SHERLOCK~**

**A/N: Annnnd the ending was sort of sudden but I wanted to get this out before I have to head off to class. Suggestions on what should happen next are appreciated! Why is Mycroft here? **


	4. Chapter 4

Edit: As happy as I am with all the story alerts I'm getting, I would seriously appreciate some reviews. Even if it's just a d^_^b (thumbs up) I would be happy. Let's go with this, just leave a emoticon for however you felt during this chapter. XD

**Thanks to Silverspeare and Himekun for the ideas for this chapter~! Even though I kind of wandered off from the original intent…**

**~SHERLOCK~**

"I have the solution to your dilemma." Mycroft announced, looking at both Sherlock and John. "I have called the locksmith, who made this pair of handcuffs. Luckily for you two, he isn't as stupid as Sherlock and had a key made for them just in case."

Sherlock looked slightly livid at this, muttering a small curse towards the locksmith. John didn't give a damn about what Sherlock was thinking; he was eagerly looking to Mycroft, the man suddenly becoming something of a savior.

"Thank god! How long until he can get it here?"

"Oh I have it now." Mycroft fished inside his suit's pocket for a moment before pulling out a small key. Automatically reaching for it, John was slightly stunned when Mycroft pulled back. "Not yet Dr. Waston."

"Excuse me?" John looked at Mycroft, dumbfounded. What the hell was going on now?

"Sherlock, what day is it?"

"…" Sherlock suddenly winced.

"I did think that you had forgotten. This is why," Mycroft dangled the key in front of them, "I brought this as insurance."

"Sherlock, what is he talking about?"

"My mother's dinner party…tomorrow" Sherlock began to slowly slouch in his seat, a childish look of anger on his face. "I refuse to go."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, "You always refuse to go. Mummy sent me special this time to make sure that you attend. It does hurt her that you don't come by often." He sighed and threw the key up, catching it in the palm of his hand.

"Your threat doesn't work on me Mycroft. I can pick this lock. We don't need the key." Sherlock said.

"After looking over the locksmith's design of the lock, and taking in consideration of the interruptions you shall have, the time you will finish picking that lock will be a little over forty hours from now."

Everyone was silent. Then, Sherlock slowly looked towards John, who gave Sherlock the most evil look he could muster up.

"I do believe we'll be going to the dinner part Mycroft. Please make sure John and I have the appropriate attire."

Mycroft allowed himself a small, smug victory smirk, "I shall, and please do remember to be on your best behavior, Sherlock."

**~SHERLOCK~**

Damn Sherlock. Damn Mycroft. Damn whoever the hell invented handcuffs.

John was currently cursing out anyone he could blame for their predicament in the back of a limo driving up the Holmes estate. Of course everything looked luxurious and expensive. John could already see people ahead of them getting out of their cars, dressed in tuxedos and gowns that probably cost more than his and Sherlock's flat. Although, the tuxedo John was wearing probably cost about the same amount as everyone else's.

He tugged on said piece of clothing, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. This really wasn't his sort of thing; jeans and a T-shirt along were what John Watson could wear comfortably. _I bet I look like a complete idiot._

"You do look sort of silly." A scoff came from John's right, and he turned to look at Sherlock.

"Thanks Sherlock, that's really what I needed to hear right now."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I mean you look silly tugging at it and constantly shifting about. Just smile and nod, that's how I get through these events."

At Sherlock's words, John realized that he was shifting about an awful lot. Quickly righting himself, John placed his hands on his knees and straightened his back. A snort came out of Sherlock, and John gave him another look.

"Sorry, but now you look to tense. This isn't an army meeting, John." Sherlock smiled, almost tenderly, and reached out his hands to fiddle with the lapels on John's suit. Slightly embarrassed at the very intimate gesture, John cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away.

"Yes, well, it is the first time I'll be meeting your mother. And I'm doing it in less than desirable circumstances." John rattled the handcuffs.

"Believe me, there have been worse circumstances."

"Like what?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment, "Perhaps the time I blew up the west wing of our house due to an experiment might count."

John goggled at Sherlock, "You're kidding me!"

"Oh no, it happened. Mummy was furious of course, I had disturbed the cocktail hour and it's her favorite part of the evening." Sherlock grinned at John, and soon they were both giggling hysterically.

"I honestly can believe you would do that. You almost blow up our flat at least two times a month." John said in between his laughs.

Sherlock and John's laughter lasted them all the way up until they entered the mansion. It was John who stopped laughing first, because the room was truly spectacular. If this was just a regular dinner party at the Holmes mansion, John was sure that during events like Christmas or Easter the place must be breathtaking.

The entry hall was lined with mirrors that reflected the tiny lights that had been strung up around. Beautiful arrangements of flowers were placed all about the place, making the room smell like a garden. People walked back and forth on the lush red carpet, greeting each other with friendly faces. John was slightly surprised to see a few famous people walking around, ranging from actors to important politicians. Although, John thought, he really shouldn't be that surprised, considering the influence of the Holmes, it was no wonder they had friends in upper circles.

Making their way down the hall, John and Sherlock did receive quite a few stares from the people around them. A few even looked as though they were going to make a loud comment about it, but thought better at the last moment.

Unsure what to do, John allowed himself to be led around by Sherlock. Thankfully it looked like Sherlock had taken John's best interests (removing the handcuffs) to heart and was being a perfect gentleman to everyone…at least to their faces. Occasionally when the person would move away, Sherlock would let out a stream of words about them under his breath to John, which varied from insults to facts about their private lives. Normally John would scold Sherlock, but he was so nervous about being around such people, John found himself eagerly listening to Sherlock's soothing voice and snarky comments.

It wasn't until they suddenly ran into Mycroft that John realized he hadn't seen him or anyone who could possibly be Sherlock and Mycroft's mother all evening.

"Dr. Watson, I am so glad you were able to make it," Mycroft grinned and shook John's hand. "Our mother is waiting in the drawing room for you two. She wants to meet you before dinner starts."

John glanced over at Sherlock, who was doing his best to imitate an upset five year old and was pointedly ignoring his brother. "Ah, right. I've wanted to meet her for quite some time too." John gave Mycroft a warm smile, at the same time jabbing Sherlock in the side with his elbow, "Which way to the drawing room then?"

"I'll have Alastair take you there, I need to go meet and greet some important politicians." Mycroft looked around for a moment, searching for someone, and almost immediately an old man dressed in a neat suit appeared by his side. With a tidy little mustache and a full head of combed grey hair, Alastair made the impression of a perfect butler. He held himself straight and tall, looking at Mycroft with rapt attention.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes?" The butler said. His accent easily pin-pointed the man as an American.

"Please take these two to the drawing room please." Mycroft waved at Sherlock and John.

Alastair nodded, "Right away Mr. Holmes. Please follow me gentlemen." He turned his back on them, walking off quickly down the hallways, obviously expecting them to follow. With a hastily muttered goodbye at Mycroft, John followed Alastair's quick pace.

With Alastair's stuffy look, John was honestly not expecting what happened next. As soon as they were out of eyesight of the party, Alastair spun around and karate chopped Sherlock, who blocked it and kicked the man in the shins.

"I'm glad to see you haven't been neglecting yourself!" The old man laughed and thumped Sherlock on the back.

"Yes, well, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and running away from criminals does keep a body in good shape." Noticing John's more than slightly shocked reaction, Sherlock properly introduced Alastair. "John, this is Alastair, a man who has been my family's butler since before I was born." Sherlock patted Alastair on the back.

"He forgot to mention I was also his self-defense tutor. Taught this kiddo everything he needed to know." Alastair grinned and reached out to shake John's hand. Taking it, John wasn't surprised at all anymore to feel the hand he was shaking was strong and firm, with some calluses that showed this man was no stranger to hard work.

Sherlock and Alastair chatted the rest of the way, passing information back and forth, making jokes, and even talking about old times. John had never seen Sherlock so nostalgic before. This was also one of the rare moments Sherlock wasn't being completely snarky to whoever he was speaking to. The only other person besides John that Sherlock talked to like that was Mrs. Hudson.

Too soon, they came to stop outside of a large dark wood door. Alastair took a moment to recompose himself before knocking three times on the door. A soft voice called from inside, "You may enter," and Alastair swung the door open, ushering Sherlock and John inside before closing it, leaving them alone.

The room they had entered was warmly lit with electric lamps. A few pieces of plush furniture were littered throughout the room, and a large bookcase stood opposite to the enormous window that looked out onto the entrance of the Holmes estate. To John's great amusement, a small telescope was set up next the window, in a position not looking towards the star but rather to the ground where people were still milling around, getting out of their cars. Apparently Sherlock had gotten his love for people watching from his mother.

A soft rustling of fabric brought John's attention to the only other person in the room tall woman who was getting up from a couch and approaching them. Her gray hair was long and curly, and she walked daintily, and almost seemed to float over to them. Her grace was probably helped by the fact that her long navy blue dress danced around her legs, framing her thin body very well.

"Mother," Sherlock smiled warmly and reached out, wrapping his arms around the woman best he could with John still attached to him.

"Sherlock, it's so good to finally see you. If I didn't know better, I would say you were trying to avoid me." Mrs. Holmes voice was soft and low.

"Of course not, I've just been…busy."

Mrs. Holmes rolled her eyes, "Yes, of course. I know what you've been 'busy' with. I read the blog written by your delightful friend. I almost had a heart attack reading some of them. It seems as though you are shot at on a daily basis!"

"Please, John over exaggerates."

"I doubt it, after what my information network tells me it seems that Mr. Watson is spot on with most of his writings."

Sherlock snorted, "Your information network? That would be Mycroft, correct? You do remember he exaggerates as well, right?"

"Well, it's more than Mycroft dear. Both of you always had a flair for theatrics, I was slightly surprised neither of you went into the theater business. I remember this one incident when you were five," Mrs. Holmes smile turned into a dangerous smirk. "You both came in, covered in some strange slime, caterwauling at each other! I was barely able to make out a single word! All I got was some dramatic retelling from you about how Mycroft had purposely set your experimental slugs to explode, while Mycroft was shouting something about you hiding exploding slugs in his underwear drawer."

John laughed, and laughed harder when Sherlock sent him an embarrassed look.

"You two haven't really changed much," John said, then turned to address Mrs. Holmes, "Just last week, Mycroft came barging into our flat, shouting at Sherlock for rigging his briefcase to set fire to anything that was in it when the briefcase was closed."

Mrs. Holmes let out a loud laughed and clutched John's hands between hers. "John I do believe we shall get along swimmingly!"

Mrs. Holmes was easily one of the best women John had ever met. She was right up there with Mrs. Hudson and John's grandmother. After the initial conversation, Sherlock and John were invited to sit down and chat with Mrs. Holmes until dinner was called. The conversation was light, mainly filled in by John and Mrs. Holmes. John would talk about what was going on now with Sherlock, and occasionally Mycroft, while Mrs. Holmes talked on endlessly about their childhood. Sherlock sometimes intervened, mainly to defend himself, but remained silent for most of the time, watching his mother and John chatter on together.

It wasn't until an uncomfortable moment appeared when John needed to go use the restroom that the conversation turned. John had almost (but not quite) forgotten that he and Sherlock were still handcuffed together, so the poor man stumbled a bit when he got up to move away to excuse his self.

"Forgotten something John?" Sherlock clinked the chains of the handcuffs.

"Right, my charm on my charm bracelet." John waited for Sherlock to get up so that he could go take care of business. Sherlock did start to rise, but was ushered back down by his mother.

"Sherlock I can't believe you would do this, actually, scratch that, I can," Mrs. Holmes rolled her eyes and muttered something. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and a small blush overtook his face.

"Sorry, what was that?" John asked.

"Nothing," Sherlock hastily mumbled. John looked at him curiously, then back to Mrs. Holmes.

She smiled graciously and repeated, "Sherlock always did like to keep his favorite things close by."

John could tell, even without looking in a mirror that his blush was worse than Sherlock's. He let out a few stuttered syllables, but couldn't actually get a cohesive sentence out. The words, 'I'm not a thing' or 'We aren't together' just couldn't seem to work themselves out of his mouth.

"Anyways, I do think you two have suffered enough." Mrs. Holmes clapped her hands onto her knees, "I won't make you escort John to the bathroom again Sherlock. And I do think you would appreciate both hands for eating tonight's dinner. As much as I love teasing my guests, this is supposed to be a classy affair, so no handcuffs at the table boys." She stood up and went across the room, opened a drawer, rummaged in it for a moment, before bringing out a small silver key identical to the one Mycroft had been teasing them with the other day.

John's shoulders sagged in relief, finally he would be free!

Except…not really. At the sight of the key, Sherlock immediately pulled John down and put a hand over the keyhole.

"I don't need help with the handcuffs. We're perfectly fine." He snapped. John stared at Sherlock in disbelief.

"You can't be serious. Sherlock I have spent more than enough time handcuffed to you!" John almost shouted. Sherlock's face took on a more stubborn tone.

"I can pick it!"

"Not soon enough for me!"

"But-!" Sherlock snapped his mouth closed, looking livid. Whatever he was about to say put another blush on the detective's face.

Mrs. Holmes watched the entire scene with a look of what can only be called amusement. She threw the key, very Mycroft like, up in the air. "Shall I leave you two boys to discuss?" She didn't wait for an answer before walking out the door, shutting it firmly behind her.

Both men glared at each other for a moment before launching into a tirade of arguments.

**~SHERLOCK~**

**A/N: This chapter was hard to write…I apologize if the characters have felt OOC throughout this, I haven't been as into the Sherlock series as before and writing Sherlock and John is very hard for me, especially since I've been getting back into anime. I don't know if anybody else notices it, but there's a difference between writing anime fan fiction and fan fiction for stuff like Sherlock. T_T So it's slightly difficult because I feel like writing Sherlock in anime form which really doesn't work.**

**So next chapter should hopefully be the last~ please let me know if anything felt awkward in this chapter. I ended it rather suddenly but that's because I'll be busy tomorrow and I was desperate to get out this chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'd really appreciate feedback on the make out scene because I've never really written one like that before and I want to know how you guy's think it went.**

**~SHERLOCK~**

"Sherlock I cannot believe you!" John shook his head, "I absolutely cannot believe," he growled and put his face in his hands. His voice trailed off and Sherlock shifted uncomfortably next to him.

"John," Sherlock waited for an acknowledgment from his flat mate but with none forthcoming he just continued on, "I know you're a little upset over my refusal to have my mother unlock us but it's really for the best."

That had gotten a reaction, although not quite the one Sherlock had been hoping for. John looked up at Sherlock with disbelief, and when he spoke, fury colored his tone. "For the best? Sherlock this is not the best for us! Your stupid pride is nothing compared to my life Sherlock! Remember I have things to do outside of being your friend and flat mate!"

Silence rang out in the room. Sherlock looked incredibly down put and wouldn't meet John's gaze. John on the other hand was furiously glaring at Sherlock, waiting for the other man to speak. Sherlock took in a deep breath, letting it out as he folded his hands in the way he would often do when he was thinking seriously about a case. John remained silent.

"It's not…I just…" Sherlock growled in frustration, "I know you have a life outside of me and that's the reason why!"

"Why what Sherlock?"

Sherlock was struggling. Talking was normally so easy for him, just state the truth blandly and everything will work out. Now, if he didn't use the right words then everything could go to hell. "You are my life. There isn't a single aspect of my life that you don't touch anymore."

It was as if all the anger had been drained from John, only leaving tiredness and confusion. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" He asked.

"It means I don't like it when you bring girlfriends back to our home. Girlfriend whose names you can barely remember! I don't like it that you when you go out to the pub with your coworkers, people I don't know. You know everyone in my life, everyone who's important anyways. There isn't a single aspect of my life that you don't touch anymore." Sherlock repeated.

"I still don't see why that means we have to be handcuffed together."

"I want to be in every part of your life as you are in mine. I didn't think that you would appreciate me following you around everywhere so I devised a plan that would force you to allow me in." Sherlock said.

It was so utterly ridiculous that John chuckled and relaxed backwards, looking up at the ceiling, "Only you Sherlock could dream up something so daft as that instead of saying it straight."

"These feelings are hard enough to get across to you John without you making comments." Sherlock went slightly red and looked away from John.

"And what feelings are those Sherlock?" John twisted his head over to stare at Sherlock. He was completely red now, the paleness of his skin doing nothing to hide the embarrassed flush working itself onto his face. Sherlock cleared his throat and gripped his knees, looking down at the floor.

They sat there like that for minutes that felt like hours, with Sherlock looking at the floor and John looking at Sherlock. Sherlock was taking deep breaths, obviously trying to calm himself, but failing miserably. His hands were shaking on his knees.

Carefully, John slipped his hand into Sherlock's, gauging the reaction he received. Sherlock tightly held onto John's hand, the shaking slowly going away. Sherlock turned his head sharply to look at John, their eyes meeting each other's. Hoping, praying that he had observed all the signs correctly, John took a deep breath and leaned upwards to Sherlock, softly pressing their lips together.

And damn does it feel like everything great and amazing rolled into one. First kisses with new people are normally awkward, neither is too sure of the other's kissing style and how to fit their mouths together properly, or if the kiss should even be happening. But this, this is as close to perfect as a kiss can get. The kiss started off slightly shy and testing, just brushing their mouths together. But after a moment, surety takes over and Sherlock is moving his lips more confidently against John's. There's no doubt John is the more experienced kisser, but Sherlock isn't that bad at all.

Sherlock brings the hand that isn't still handcuffed to John upwards to cup John's face and bring it closer. John pokes his tongue out, swiping it across the crack in Sherlock's lips, asking for entrance. His silent requested is granted, but it only takes a few moments before Sherlock is pressing his tongue against John's and copying the movements. John gasps slightly when Sherlock inches his body forward so that there is no space between them anymore. This gasp is taken advantage of and soon it is John who is on the defensive, Sherlock's tongue gracefully sweeping past his open lips and smoothly mapping its way around John's mouth.

It isn't until John hears a woman clearing her throat that he realizes that Sherlock and him have ended up in a vertical position, with Sherlock on top. Completely embarrassed, John pushes Sherlock off and winces as Mrs. Holmes face looks down at them from over the couch.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you both continue this in Sherlock's bedroom. I don't want to have to explain the mess the maids will find tomorrow if you continue your activities here." She said in a strict, but very amused tone of voice.

Now utterly mortified, John scrambled up, ready to dash out of the room, except for the now more pleasant weight on his arm, pulling him back down. John found himself in the lap of Sherlock Holmes, who put his arms around John and held him still.

"Sorry mother." Sherlock apologized. She graced his apology with a nod.

"I believe then you'll want this?" Mrs. Holmes held out the key, and this time Sherlock took it.

Still in Sherlock's grasp, John could only stay still as Sherlock pulled up John's handcuffed wrist and unlocked it. A small sigh of relief did make its way out of John's mouth as the handcuff came off. Not that he would admit it, but the handcuff was beginning to chafe his wrist a bit.

When both of them were fully un-cuffed, Sherlock slipped the handcuffs into his pocket and looked back to his mother with a look that John couldn't identify. Mrs. Holmes gave Sherlock another mysterious look before waving them away. As they stood to leave, Mrs. Holmes reached out and hugged them both. She smiled and patted their faces in a motherly way and said, "Take good care of my son John."

"I always do Mrs. Holmes."

"Thank you dear." She smiled warmly at him.

Sherlock and John left and walked back towards the noise of the party. At the top of the stairs they stood, looking down at all the socialites still walking about. Sherlock looked distastefully at the crowd, and after a quick glance at John he said, "Do…do you just want to head back to our flat? We can grab dinner at Angelo's."

John chuckled, "And after we eat we can get to those activities your mother was suggesting?"

Sherlock shrugged and looked away, but not fast enough that John didn't catch the blush edging itself onto his face. "Possibly," Sherlock murmured.

"We're going to have to sneak past Mycroft then," John said.

"Oh, I think we can crawl out one of the windows." Sherlock smirked and grabbed hold of John's hand, leading him down the stairs. "He'll be too mortified to do anything about it." John only laughed in response and followed behind Sherlock.

**~SHERLOCK~**

They did actually end up climbing out the first window they came across that they could jump out of without breaking anything. Mycroft was, of course, incredibly irritated, but held off from calling the dogs on Sherlock and John after Mrs. Holmes came downstairs and chided him.

Angelo delighted in finally being able to place candles on the table without protest from John. He even took a good amount off the tab, although that might have been because Sherlock had been able to get him off for possible manslaughter charges the week prior.

Even though they had been handcuffed together for far too long, and he had complained and complained about wanting to be separated from Sherlock, John never let go of Sherlock's hand the entire way home.

**The End~**

**Omake~ Less than Three**

Edit Note: Because the less than symbol doesn't work on fanfiction I'll just be putting 'less than' to represent it

After two months of being 'official', as John had put it, Sherlock received a text from John that incredibly puzzled him.

_I'll be back by 2 with milk. Less than 3_

_-John_

Less than three? What did that mean? Sherlock flopped down onto the couch, and immediately went through his mind database.

Less than three. Less than three. Did John mean milk was less than three? But that didn't make any sense at all. Was John trying to send him a coded message through text? That was possible.

Sherlock leapt off the couch and grabbed pen and paper and began. He first went through all the codes John would know, military codes, and silly child codes. The only thing that appeared was the phrase 'The buttress bitter blue' which Sherlock did ponder over for a while, but finally dismissed as nonsense and moved on. He tried codes that were more advanced and came up empty. Frustrated, Sherlock threw down the pen and shoved the now stack of papers onto the floor. Nothing he had tried worked! It was possible that John was in deep trouble! What if he was really hurt and waiting for Sherlock to come rescue him?

Sherlock began pacing, worry clouding his thoughts. Maybe it wasn't code. GPS possibly? Sherlock dismissed that idea after only ten seconds of thinking on it.

Maybe he should call Mycroft. It was a desperate last resort but this was John they were talking about after all. Sherlock reached for his phone, ready to dial the number, when the door behind him opened and John bustled in with a bag of milk.

"Is it safe to put this in the fridge? You did throw out the human pancreas you had in there earlier, right?" John glanced at Sherlock, and stopped dead, "What's wrong Sherlock? You look even more pale than usual."

"John!" Sherlock lunged across the room, grasping John into a tight hug.

John staggered back, swearing when the bag of milk hit the floor. "Sherlock! I had to fight through a crowd of people to get that milk! If it's spilled!" He left the threat hanging. Sherlock still held him tighter. John rolled his eyes and reached out as well, collecting Sherlock into his arms. "What's wrong?"

"I got your message and I couldn't decode it. I was worried you were dying somewhere." Sherlock placed his head on John's neck, breathing in the faint smell of antiseptic and John's bath soap.

"My message? You mean the one where I told you I was going to be back at two with milk? What was so cryptic about it?" John asked.

"The less than three part." Sherlock muttered. John continued looking confused for the briefest of moments before throwing his head back and laughing.

Sherlock was upset at John for laughing at his worries until John actually explained to him what the symbols 3 meant together. Then Sherlock was just huffy and deigned John to a small make-out session to make him pay for worrying him so much.

The make-out session also proved a good distraction from the huge mess of papers now scattered about in their living room. Sherlock figured Mrs. Hudson could take care of them later.

**~SHERLOCK~**

**A/N: Watch the Sherlock/John Thousand Years video on YouTube done by lollimaki. It really gave me the inspiration to finish this (funny enough even though this is a light hearted fic and that video is so sad XD)**

**One day I might go back and rewrite this. I'm only really happy with how the last chapter turned out, the rest of them read a little awkward to me. But thanks to all who took the time to review and read this, I owe you guys a lot with encouraging me on in this. *tips top hat* So, yes, thank you.**


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